This is More Than Just Temporary Insanity
by TaintedMoonlight
Summary: It's a tangled mess of need, lust, and a blind desire for some screwed up relationship that digs into one's skin and boils one's blood. They're killing each other, while serving as their only source of oxygen at the same time. --Collection of oneshots--
1. Bubbling Underneath the Surface

_**This is More Than Just Temporary Insanity**_

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**Bubbling Underneath the Surface**

_#23 (Neck)_

**Word Count: **334

**Rating: **M (Because Stein's a little freaking crazy)**  
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**Summary: **He knows there's more than she shows, and he wants to cut it open to see it.

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**A/N:** Started another challenge/community thing. This one is 42_souls, with, yeah, you guessed it, 42 prompts! I know, I've really got to stop doing that. I don't really have the time. It's just, I looked at table 2 and thought Stein/Medusa. And what with the little amount of Stein/Medusa fics in this fandom it was practically demanding for me to claim them. This is my first shot at it, expect more updates, but sporadically, since there will be times when I might find the time to write (or scribble a bit during class) and manage to post up. So, no regular updates for this fic. Sorry.

Like I usually do with these, I'll have the word count, rating, and summary posted at the top for each separate update.

Enjoy the Stein/Medusa goodness. Hope it doesn't hit below expectations. _  
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Medusa, the peculiar nurse, always attracted him in a way he couldn't quite decipher. He was drawn to her presence and contemplated certain things. Things he probably shouldn't. She would be such a wonderful person to cut open, to feel her blood slipping through his fingers would be interesting.

She was – or at least appeared – such a normal, pretty, kind woman. A smile on her lips, a twinkle in her eyes, and a perpetual care for her students. But shinigami help him, he didn't buy it for a second. There was something deep – something bubbling underneath her pristine skin. Something he wanted to see and understand.

His fingers itched to cut her open.

Stein sighed deeply and tried to direct his thoughts to another wavelength. He shouldn't have accepted the position at Shibusen. He wasn't altogether sane. He'd never been altogether sane.

"This should suffice." She held out a bottle of some blue elixir to him. "Should get rid of your headache."

His eyes drew instinctively drawing to the where her blonde hair brushed her neck as she faced him once more. The blonde strands tickled the creamy white skin giving undue attention to that vulnerable soft spot.

How he wanted to let his fingers drag and press against his skin. He wanted to taste her skin – to see if he could taste whatever it was she was hiding. Then he could shove her somewhere she couldn't move and slowly cut the skin of her neck – marveling as her gorgeous blood – for it could only be gorgeous – spilled, staining the pristine cream wrapping of her body. He would watch as her eyes slowly dimmed and she faded from very life itself.

"Dr. Stein?"

He shook his head lightly and took the bottle from her fingers. The slight brush of his fingers against hers as he did sent another myriad of unwelcome thoughts parading through his mind. "Thank you, Medusa."

This woman was not good for his sanity.

He had so little of it left.


	2. Chocolate Desserts

**Chocolate Desserts**

_#3 (Lick)_

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**Word Count: **261

**Rating: **K

**Summary: **Even a witch like her has childish inclinations for certain foods.

**Warning:** Might be a bit OOC

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When she was younger, farther back than she'd really like to remember herself, she used to like baking. She reveled in the feel of squishing her fingers into the dough, feeling as it changed from liquidy goop to firm dough. When it was cake, she'd drag her finger across the bowl and lick the batter – she especially liked the chocolate batter. Years later, she still had a peculiar affinity for chocolate that was never quite satisfied – one that she found, tasted best on fingertips than it did from a spoon or any other equally boring place.

Currently, she was having a hard time controlling her impulses.

Her fingers dug into the hardwood table and her teeth clamped down firmly.

That new teacher, Dr. Stein they called him, had just finished a melted chocolate candy bar and was proceeding to lick the sticky remnants from his fingers. Medusa wanted to take his hand and lick the chocolaty goodness off herself. It took every fiber of her strength not to act out on her impulses. "If you'll all excuse me, I have a few things to attend to." She managed to spit out in the sickly sweet tone she'd adopted. She pushed away from the dining table a bit too firmly and hastened out a bit too quickly.

Once out of the room Medusa let out a sigh of relief.

How she'd dearly wanted to lick his fingers clean. If she weren't so busy pretending to be a normal sweet nurse, she would have.

What a sorry excuse for a witch she was.


	3. Everyone Needs a Scapegoat

**_Everyone Needs a Scapegoat to Make Themselves Feel Better_**

_(#26 - Blame)_

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**Word Count: **282

**Rating: **M

**Summary: **If he could only blame her, his conscience would rest easier.

**Warning:** Murder mentions

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Medusa laughed. Coldly, cruelly, sadistically – everything she was and always would be. "Blame me, Stein? How utterly pathetic of you!" Her blonde hair wisped about her face as it always had. She looked so clean, porcelain, and pristine – what better guise to hide the creature within? "This is who you've always been; I've only been courteous enough to let you and everyone else see it."

"That's not true." Stein struggled to control the urges within him once more. Just a little bit longer – just enough to remain as he always had.

"Everyone's left you, Stein." Medusa crooned. She took a step closer. "Marie, Spirit, even Shinigami…Everyone thinks you're a lost cause. Everyone rejects you because of who you are inside."

He was continually trying to bottle everything up.

Always.

Then _she_ had to go around and wreck his system!

"Blame me, blame me," she half-hissed, "But you know that you've never felt better than you do now."

Stein looked at his shaking hands, at the blood that was no longer there.

He'd killed one of his students.

He'd cut the child open, the blood had poured through his hands, he'd felt the beating heart still in his hands before he stabbed a knife in the bloody pumping organ as well. His scalpel had cut deep into the skin, straight into the core. He didn't stop until the body itself was completely unrecognizable.

Upon realizing what he'd _really_ done, Stein had spent countless hours crying, screaming, and trying to wash the blood stains away.

But nothing would ever change the fact that he'd enjoyed it.

"I'll kill you if it's the last thing I do, Medusa."

She smirked. "I welcome the challenge, doctor."


	4. Ultimate Pleasure

**Ultimate Pleasure**

_#42 (Addicted)_

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**Word Count: **174

**Rating: **T

**Summary: **She truly was perverse.

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How she loved the fight.

She loved the sting of burns, the sear of cuts, the deep guttural cry when one hit really struck her deep inside. She was addicted to the unbelievable fission of pain and anger. Fighting with Stein – on the two occasions she had done so – had been a truly delightful treat. He focused deep on the fight and paid no attention to anything other than the destruction.

She was sure in those moments that Stein too was deeply attracted to the concept of deadly strife. He welcomed the gamble of being killed or being the one to kill.

How it felt as her blood slowly seeped out of her, as his maniacal laugh filled her senses.

This fighting – this brush with death – especially at the hands of Franken Stein, was the best form of ecstasy she could ever experience.

Next time they would have a battle, Medusa would be sure to be the one to deliver the death.

Who the hell needed sex when something as pure as _this_ existed?


	5. The Crux of the Matter

**_The Crux of the Matter_**

_(#17 -- Blood) _

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**Word Count: **574

**Rating: **M

**Summary: **It was a screwed up action; he knew it, but he couldn't help himself. Immersed within the act itself, was something he needed sorely to make everything different than how it was.

**Warning:** Talking about sex. The action of sex. NOT smut ( I think...)

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It wasn't about love.

It wasn't about lust.

It wasn't about any damn thing that made a lick of sense.

Stein had always thought Spirit an idiot for his constant shifts in sexual attraction and disturbing halfway promiscuity. Spirit couldn't damn well handle whoring himself out the entire way, so rather, the peculiar redhead flirted, teased, and engaged in passionate kisses, but never quite gave in all the way, and never bothered to do anything with anyone who could accurately entertain and stimulate him in a conversation not pertaining to sex (or Maka). Spirit didn't pick someone he liked; Spirit didn't even bother to enjoy himself fully with those he picked. And it had never made any sense to Stein.

Yet, here he was.

Here time stood.

And here he was doing something more inexplicable and certainly damning than Spirit himself had ever managed.

The sex…the sex wasn't about anything, but it was about everything too.

He liked the feel of her skin in his hands, he liked her evil laugh, he liked that even when he was lost in complete ecstasy, he knew that what he was doing was screwed up on both an ethical and spiritual level. There were rules that said you didn't sleep with the enemy during war. The problem was, Stein didn't know what side he was on anymore.

He knew what side he'd initially been on.

He knew what side he was thought to be on.

But he didn't know what part he was playing.

He was good, when he wanted to be.

But he was bad, even when he didn't want to be.

Her legs wrapped tightly around him and a torrent of obscenities stream from her mouth intermingled with 'faster', 'harder', 'Fuck it, Stein, I want it now'. His teeth bit into her shoulder, not too hard – usually he drew blood.

It was strange, and hardly similar.

They were both too mad in the head for it to hold any semblance of familiarity. Sometimes it was violent, sometimes gentle, sometimes teasing, sometimes aggressive, sometimes a mix of everything, and sometimes just a bland nothingness holding more resemblance to duty than anything else.

Sleeping with the enemy.

Was he?

Did it matter?

More demands streamed from her mouth, her blonde hair clinging to her sweaty face. Her nails dug into him. "Now, dammit!"

He didn't comply. Let her suffer.

It wasn't about love.

It wasn't about lust.

It wasn't about the heat of the moment, the release, the control of something, the feel of a body in his arms, it was about the way their blood pounded angrily in their veins and how Stein could almost swear he could feel the angry throbbing of her blood when she was pressed close enough to him.

It was about being close to each other and being something more than what they were apart.

Shinigami, help them, but they were both falling into crevices deeper than anyone could understand, and it took more and more each time so that they would feel whole. At least, when they were connected like this – no matter how it became that way – whatever gnawing cavern was threatening to overwhelm the both seemed smaller in comparison to the joint connection created by their anger and fear.

It didn't make damn sense.

He was finally more screwed up than his original partner in respect to sexual endeavors.

He was more screwed up than anyone he knew.


	6. The Things One Does for Stimulus

**_The Things One Does for Stimulus_**

_(#33-- Junkie) _

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**Word Count: **662

**Rating: **M

**Summary: **Sometimes other people just don't get WHY you're with the person your with. Maybe it's not healthy and maybe it's not sane, but damned if it isn't liberating.

**Warning:** AU

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"My, God, Stein! You have to stop this nonsense!" Spirit exclaimed once more.

Stein had lost count, truly of how many times his old friend had berated him. If he could really call Spirit a friend at any rate. The redhead was curiously friendly at some moments and sporadically paranoid and terrified at others. Not that he didn't have a right to be; Stein wasn't exactly the sanest of people to hang around with. He'd once attempted to dissect Spirit, after being inspired by their dissection of frogs in their high school biology class.

To be honest, he wasn't sure what he would have done if he'd actually managed to catch Spirit. Kill him, probably not, but he might have freaked him out making plans of where he would cut him open. Stein didn't think he'd ever actually have garnered the guts to cut a live person open – society had well ingrained him against any such thoughts – but he was still free to think about it.

Now for a living he cut dead people open.

He imagined it wasn't nearly as fun as live people, but he didn't think he could trust himself to be a surgeon with his unusual penchant for the sickeningly repulsive.

Stein took a drag of his cigarette, "I don't see why I should listen to you."

"She's a mad woman, Stein." Spirit continued, waving his hands sporadically, "She's aggressive, violent, who knows how many people she's killed, and whatever the hell you're doing has got you looking like some sort of junkie!" Spirit harrumphed, "Really, Stein. You walk around half dead and perpetually obsessed with her." His hands were moving about again. "I mean, sure she's got a great body with those hips, perfect lips, and her breasts, well those are just perfectly amazing." His hand motions had ceased making sense to him.

Upon beginning his comments on her appearance Spirit had made a suggestive motion of an hourglass, but now Stein was having trouble understanding it. If he were to be honest, Spirit's hand motions made him think the redhead wanted a sandwich. Although, judging from the drool that could hardly be the answer.

Spirit blinked. "Where was I going with this?"

Stein didn't answer.

Spirit idly kicked a pebble his brow furrowing as he attempted to recall what he'd said. "Oh, right! She's dangerous and you should end it."

"Spirit, you're being an idiot."

"My reasons were all excellent!"

Stein sighed. "You joined the army too, Spirit. You've killed plenty people. That's what people do in war, and that's what _she_ did. Your ex-wife is _far_ more violent towards you than Medusa has ever been toward me, and looking like a junkie is perhaps due to many of my other unfailing addictions."

Spirit frowned. He burrowed his hands in his pockets. "I still don't like it. I hardly think she's healthy for you."

Cuts, bites, moaning, heavy breathing, the scent of metallic blood mixing with their sweat, heat, warmth, pain, cold, and ecstasy. No…Medusa was hardly healthy for him. But she was the most enticing thing he'd ever touched, ever held, ever tasted. He wanted her near him again, so he could engage in their twisted dance of sex and pain. She was fucking beautiful – crazy and all.

He was only glad she appreciated him the same way.

"She's not."

"Then why are you with her!?" Spirit exclaimed, his hands were up in the air again waving angrily.

Stein rolled the lit cigarette between his thumb and his forefinger.

The vision of blond hair on his pillow, the silk of her ivory skin, the taste of her blood, and the feel of her nails cutting his skin. She wasn't expensive for a girlfriend – or whatever the hell it was that she was – but she was certainly damaging. "It's interesting."

Spirit looked like he wanted to slug him.

Stein ignored it.

They were a fucked up pair of lovers, but he rather liked it that way.


	7. Who in the World ARE You?

_**Who in the World Are You?**_

_(#08 -- Table)_

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**Word Count: **626

**Rating: **T

**Summary: **Some people are really just utterly shocking -- in a good way, mind you.

**Warning:** Medusa MIGHT be OOC, I'm not sure.

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There was a light cough at the door. "Be with you in a moment." Medusa chirped, trying to sound merry. She should probably sound merry. It was somebody's birthday. Somebody she was supposed to like. It was a shame she couldn't even remember who she should be incredibly congenial with. She arranged a few of her medicines on the oak cabinet carefully as she once more contemplated how her plans were working.

Fairly well, if she did say so herself.

The cough persisted.

"One moment!" Medusa patted down her coat a little and tried to regain her usual warm façade. She stepped out breezily from the closet and made her way back into the main medicine room. She stared in slight annoyance in the direction of the door, very much bothered that someone had the gall to bother her and had left without a word. It was a waste of her time for goodness sakes. She frowned. Medusa fished a tiny chocolate from her coat pocket and slid it in her mouth.

There was nothing like chocolate to make her happiness at least somewhat true.

She walked over to the door, her fingertips dragging along the small oak table by the door as she stuck her head out in the hallway. Yep, the inconsiderate jerk had interrupted her and left. Weren't these idiot good-guys supposed to be polite and whatnot? Ugh, it was damnably annoying pretending to be a sweet human in a world of jerkish humans. Why'd she have to pretend to be nice and polite when very few were?

Best lie, she reminded herself.

Medusa turned around ready to get back to organizing her medicines. She literally jumped back at the sight before her; her fingers wrapping around the edge of the table, the noise from the impact sending the objects on the table clattering upon the wood table nosily. "What the hell happened to you?!" She wasn't able to stop the words in time.

The man quirked an eyebrow at her. He had silver hair, green eyes, stitches across his face and clothes, and a gigantic bolt screwed into his head. If he were green, Medusa would think she was transported into Mary Shelley's famous novel. Smoke curled from his hand were a thing cigarette was resting lazily.

"What was that?"

"You look like Frankenstien." Medusa wondered if she was being too rude, but honestly, she was too shocked to care.

"That would be my name."

"Your name is _Frankenstein_?" Medusa sputtered. She walked closer to the peculiar man sitting on the white sheeted bed. In fact, she couldn't stop herself and she drew closer and closer to the unusual person. She'd never seen him before.

"Franken Stein." He pushed up his glasses, the spectacles glimmering as he did, "Everyone calls me Stein."

She blinked. "Oh, Franken Stein. Like, first and last name." Medusa couldn't stop the short laugh. "How utterly terrible." Immediately she covered her mouth with her fingers. She wasn't doing very well at keeping her persona today. If she could blush on command without using magic she would do so – that would keep her fake personality up.

His lip twitched. She wasn't sure if it was in a smile or a frown.

"Can I get some cough medicine?"

Medusa inclined her head at him, still trying to figure out who he was.

The zombie! He was the _zombie's_ replacement! "Of course, Stein." The name rolled off her tongue with such a beautiful feel. She leant close to him unable to control herself and trailed a finger across the bolt in his head. Then she dragged her finger along the stitches across his face. "Hack job." She steps away, "But interesting."

And fucking sexy.


	8. Sex On Legs

**_Sex On Legs_**

_(#22 -- Legs)_

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**Word Count: **414

**Rating: **T

**Summary: **There were some things that even Medusa couldn't will herself to contemplate without blushing like an annoying twit.

**Warning:** I think Nygus is OOC.

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"Fuck, he's just sex on legs isn't he?"

Medusa choked on her coffee. "_Excuse me_?" She wiped away the scalding liquid from her face and tried as best as she could to remove it from her white coat.

"Stein." The weapon commented, a sly smile on her lips. "Sex on legs. Kind of want to jump him, hunh?"

"No! No, he's not – _no_!" Medusa contradicted immediately. She set down the coffee mug on the wooden table and tried to calm herself down. Stein was not – not _sex on legs_ for goodness sakes. He was just a weapon that looked all stitched together. He was not – _no_!

"Defensive, are we?"

Medusa swallowed down the indignant and childish reply bubbling at the back of her throat. One stupid remark was enough for one day. "He is nothing of the sort, Nygus. He has a bolt through his head and stitches across his body and clothes. How in the world does that lead to presume he's sex on legs?" She managed to keep in the insult about how it made sense that a woman wrapped in bandages would think that was hot.

The weapon smirked. "I see the way you look at him."

Medusa blushed.

Then she contemplated what in the world was wrong with her. Why the hell did she blush? Mira Nygus only visited every now and then; how could the pathetic weapon have formulated some idiotic theory that she was attracted to Franken Stein? Medusa was not an obvious person: she was an amazing actor – surely something like that was not evident. Not that she was hiding something like that.

No, of course not.

"How do you stop yourself from jumping him if you want him so badly?"

"I don't!" Medusa panicked. For some reason someone thinking she was lusting after Stein scared her completely and in a way that she didn't seem to be able to control. Hell, she could handle stress and keep the nurse act up easy, but this was completely throwing her for a loop.

Nygus grinned. "I have to go see Shinigami now. You can go back to daydreaming about him."

"I wasn't." Medusa contradicted, finally relieved that she was regaining her composure.

"You keep telling yourself that."

Medusa didn't even _like_ that weapon. Why was the mummy-pretender always hanging around her office? She gently picked up her coffee as Nygus stepped out. Medusa sipped at the scalding dark liquid.

Franken Stein was most definitely _not_ 'sex on legs'.


	9. Jagged Little Pieces

_**Jagged Little Pieces**_

_(39 -- Pet)_

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**Word Count: **371

**Rating: **T

**Summary: **It's in the shoulder blades that she's bothered. Something in the shoulder blades.

**A/N:** I don't necessarily think Medusa doesn't care about Chrona, just that she doesn't know how to care about Chrona.

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He thinks of the curve of his shoulder blades. For some reason that's been on her mind lately. Nothing more than the usual bout of abnormality. There really is nothing special about the way his shoulder blades curve. She's felt them before. They feel like you would expect shoulder blades to feel like. Bone covered by a layer of skin and muscle. Yet, they are on her mind right now.

"Medusa?"

She jumps immediately, so lost in her thoughts she didn't notice anyone else was near.

Chrona looks up at her, eyes dim and watery.

"What?" Medusa half snaps. Sometimes she forgets she has a child. If Chrona could even be called a child. As far as Medusa is concerned Chrona has never been anything more than a pet. That in itself is something special, so Medusa doesn't feel guilty. She doesn't think she can ever wrap her mind around the concept of family, having such a poor example herself, so Chrona, pet as she is, is the closest thing to familial relations that Medusa can get.

Chrona shakes her head, as if forgetting the entire thing.

Medusa irritatingly wants to slap her. She resists and stares forward, thinking again of Stein's shoulder blades.

Chrona walks away hesitantly, and it is then that Medusa notices the girl's shoulder blades. "Chrona, come here."

The timid creature obliges, and Medusa proceeded to examine her shoulder blades, tracing the shape with her fingernail.

Different, she realizes.

It's different, in that it's the same.

They both have the same feel to their shoulder blades. Different than Archane or any of her family ever had. It was sturdy, it was fragile, and it felt nice against her fingers. She noted dimly that Chrona and Stein were closer in more respects than that. They were both the only people she'd ever let have a piece of her, even if the small piece she had to offer was what other people considered fucked up and cruel.

Medusa only gave what she have.

And when it came down to it, what she had wasn't really worth having – it was better off not having. She, Medusa thought, had hurt them both in the process of wanting to have.

The irony.


	10. Collection

_**Collection**_

_(1 -- Smear)_

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**Word Count: **341

**Rating: **T

**Summary: **It was like that tale of Midas, but in reverse. Everything she cared about never ended up well.

**A/N:** I am happy, and thus, I post stuff in hopes of making other people happy.

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Medusa was not a people person, but there were rare instances, glimpses into other people's souls and lives that sometimes made her think, those people are worth collecting.

Sometimes she wanted to give in to her impulses.

Most of the time, she bit her lip and ignored the maddening voices in her head.

Most of the time, anyway.

She did end up with Chrona due to listening to her impulse one time. She couldn't say it was a mistake, but it certainly wasn't the smartest choice she'd ever made. Medusa wasn't a people person, and she had no idea what to do with a child or even how to do it. Most of the time she tried regarding Chrona as a puppy. It had functioned feasibly, at best. But at least it had functioned.

Sometimes Medusa wondered if she was born with a defect. A defect that disbarred her from having normal human interactions because she had no idea how to act. She could fake it like the best of them, but when it came down to real relationships, faking it never seemed a good option. Maybe Chrona would be better if she had faked it.

Regardless, on the best of days, Medusa did her very best to avoid looking at and analyzing people.

But she found, that day, that there were some impulses she couldn't stomach.

A trickle of blood slithered down his cheek. Stein lifted his finger and wiped it off easily, the mahogany smearing, and he watched the red goblet on the tip of his pale finger. There was a maddening expression on his face. Flustered, crazy, and obsessed. Her heart flattered and jumped up to her throat. Medusa's eyes blurred and tingles stung the palms of her hands.

She _wanted_ him.

Medusa bit her bottom lip, not even noticing when she bit down hard enough to draw blood. Not only did she want him, she was going to get him.

He would be hers.

He would number in her rare collection.

There was no question about it.


	11. Urges

_**Urges**_

_(25 -- Eyelashes)_

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**Word Count: **334

**Rating: **M

**Summary: **He needed to control his urges. Mostly because they were bad, unnatural urges to indulge. He really needed to control them.

**A/N:** Um...Stein's crazy thoughts...Swear words...That kind of thing.

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It was a blithering insane thought.

A thought he needed to get control over.

Complete control.

Utter control.

And _quick_.

"Is there a problem, ?" She asked innocently, with a touchy of cloying annoyance that made his thought all the harder to stomach. He knew she wasn't what she pretended and that only made it harder for him to control his urges. Didn't she know? She had to know. She'd be a fool not to know. "Is there something wrong with my face?"

Everything he wanted to say. Every-fucking-thing.

He wanted to shove her onto a table, and he wanted to touch her, kiss her, but most of all, he wanted to pluck her soft eyelashes one by one from her eyelids. Oh, he was unbelievably sick. He needed help.

"Dr. Stein?" She asked again, coming closer, her eyelashes coming closer.

How the hell could he want her like a man wanted a woman, but wanted to tear her bit by bit, piece by piece? It didn't make sense. Those two things could not work together. They shouldn't work together.

Her hand lifted up to his forehead and rested there.

His fingers twitched.

_Control yourself!_

Her eyes peered at him in confusion, "You don't seem ill. Is there something the matter? Perhaps, nausea?"

His hands twitched again.

"Dr. Stein?" Her tone went up a notch in worry.

Before he could do something he would regret he pushed her away, albeit too forcefully. He didn't really notice, and didn't really care. The blonde medic dropped to the floor and winced. Stein pushed the images, the urges, the desires as far back as he could make them go. "It's nothing." He muttered, his voice strained at the lie.

Her eyes stared up at him blankly, and for a second he thinks he glimpses something in them, something just as maddening and fucked up as he is.

Of course, he's only deluding himself. Nobody is as screwed as he is.

Nobody.


End file.
